


Time to Work for a Living

by BrightenYou, TonyStark_SteveRogersDiary



Series: Insanity thy name is Stripper Avengers [1]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: AU, AU-Strippers with super powers, Bruce is trying to cope, Candy, Clint has a nickname for everyone, Crack, Everyone Has Issues, Except Wanda, Germaphobe Steve, Greg is a dick, Insanity, Like really germaphobic, Multi, Pietro hates everyone, Pietro is always pissed, Second-Hand Embarrassment, Stripper Avengers, This came out a joke gone too far..., Thor is a good friend, Thor is confused, Tony is crazy, Ultron is mad, Ultron wants to be a pimp daddy, Ultron's Club, Vision gets roped into things he doesn't like, Wanda is a sweetie, Where is this going?, Written by two people, crack!!!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-31
Updated: 2015-06-01
Packaged: 2018-04-02 04:54:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4046818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrightenYou/pseuds/BrightenYou, https://archiveofourown.org/users/TonyStark_SteveRogersDiary/pseuds/TonyStark_SteveRogersDiary
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>None of them want to work here, not for Ultron, but things just don't go their way. And things get out of hand fast.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In The Beginning there Was the Helicarrier

**Author's Note:**

> Crack. Very much so.

Nick Fury, for all of his power and smarts, fell as any other man would when showered with bullets.

Slaughtered by a robotic being known as Ultron, all of his property was “acquired” legally through the use of a foraged will, leaving everything to the murderous robot. His theater, “The Helicarrier”, was now being re-purposed for more seedy desires.  
Through a programming anomaly, Ultron fancied himself a pimp of sorts, and desired to create a strip club. After all, how could one not make money off a joint like that?

His first goal was to deface the stage by installing stripper poles. Being either bullish or simply unaware of any sort of regulations and curtesy he built two poles about four feet away from each other. Vision, his “son”, tried to protest this, but Ultron simply brushed him off. What would he know? The more poles, the more dancers, and more dancers meant double profits.  
“You’re simply not thinking in terms of profit! Why would I concern myself with the distance? The stage isn’t very large, yes, but I refuse to let most of it go to waste.” Ultron had explained.

His next plan of action was to pawn off anything of value and replace it with cheaper or “free” equivalents. Vanities and dining tables were sold and in their place were plastic lawn tables and cubbies “acquired” from a local elementary school. Ultron lined the cubbies up in the backstage area, making one long line and hung cheap mirrors in each of them. After all, his strippers would need a place to dress themselves and check their appearances.

At this point Vision was refusing to associate with the project any further, but again Ultron simply brushed him off. “Foolish boy, that would be the human’s brain patterns talking. Honestly, I may have been a bit mad when I gave my son any sort of human traits. Ah well, that android side should override it soon enough.” Ultron said.  
Vision simply began rubbing his brow in frustration and walked away.

Ultron’s next plan was to build a shower system, and once it was implemented he would be well on his way to achieving his goal. In the mean time he’d need more appropriate garb.  
Within the week he’d gained a feathered fedora, a neon pink feather boa, an atrocious leopard print silk v-neck, white bell bottoms, an overly furry white coat, and a new shower system.

All that remained was the need for strippers. A shoddily made sign was stuck outside the window and an ad was put in the newspaper, both of which read “Performers needed, inquire within.”

Vision, being the sour sod he was, tried to protest the newspaper ad but eventually gave up. Ultron was beginning to deeply regret programming him.  
Performers came and went, and by the end he had six strippers to fill the six cubbies he had stolen.

His first performer was a bulky blonde man who called himself Thor. Thor seemed vaguely foreign, and at first seemed a bit confused by the need to strip, but eventually understood. He seemed to have no complaints and took the job as well as the stage name “Angel”, thanks to the feathered helmet he wore. Ultron had never met such a bizarre man in his life.

His second performer, Bruce Banner, seemed a bit more disgruntled about this job. Bruce had tried to explain that he would only be there until he paid off medical school debts and graduated, but Ultron cut him off. 

“Spare me your life story, human. It is of no concern to me. What is of concern is your feeble body. No one shall pay to see that!”

Bruce seemed outraged by this, and took on a rather nasty shade of green before transforming into a mass of bulky muscle and green skin, as well as pure rage. Ultron thought this an incredible trick, and that this green, muscled bound monster would be perfect on his stage in a g-string. And so, Bruce was hired, and slapped with the unfortunate name of “Big Green Love Machine”.

The third performer was an old friend of Bruce’s who had fallen down on his luck. Tony Stark was once one of the most wealthy and powerful men alive, only to have it stripped from him in the blink of an eye. Tony refused to explicate why or how, but Ultron had no need for that. He simply needed strippers, and Tony seemed to fit the bill well enough.

The fourth man was an anomaly but perfect eye candy nonetheless.

“Weren’t you once Captain America?” Ultron asked as he scanned the man’s face on the internet and finding a match in the database. 

The man, Steve Rogers, looked distraught. “Err, yeah. Guess the world has no need for him anymore.”

“But they will have need for the Star-Spangled Stud. Welcome aboard.”

The fifth performer was very strange indeed. He introduced himself a Clint Barton, and he was quite the quirky man who came in clad in circus gear with a bow and quiver to boot. Apparently he grew bored of the circus life, and decided to try something new.

“Plus, I can do stuff with my bow and arrows that’s pretty cool! I’m sure that-“ Clint began, but Ultron simply waved a hand to stop him short.

“It’s fine. No need. You’re hired.” 

The last cubby was filled by a white haired foreign boy, seemingly the youngest of the group, in spite of what his hair color would suggest. Pietro Maximoff, as he called himself, could move with incredible speed and grace, but always looked pissed off while doing so. He was aggressive, angry, but far too attractive to dismiss. He seemingly hated everyone and everything around him, and lashed out at any perceived transgression. Ultron thought himself brilliant for creating the stage name “The Quickie” for him.

The cubbies were filled and the sign was removed from the window. All that remained was to assign schedules, practice acts, and everything would be well on it’s way.

Apparently, sticking six disgruntled men who didn’t (for the most part) want to be there on stage was not a brilliant idea.

“I will not be doing anything remotely sexual around these guys!” Steve wailed. “I’ve read about STDs. I don’t want any!”

The man closest to him, Tony, seemed both amused and irritated. “You don’t know how STDs work, do you? Bet you don’t even know how sex works, period.”

Clint, who had created the stage name “Straight as an Arrow” for himself, snickered at this.

“FOCUS!” roared Ultron, looking clearly displeased by their shenanigans. None of them seemed to pay any mind to the behemoth and instead continued their argument.

“You know, you’re a lot of big talk for a man who’s fallen from grace. I’ve seen you around, you’re Tony Stark, ex billionaire, and practically a floozy.” Steve hissed.

This seemed to infuriate Tony, who turned a particularly unnatural shade of red. “You wanna talk falling from grace?! You were Captain America! You’re no better than the rest of us anymore!” he spat vehemently.

“Except for maybe Whitey over there.” Clint joked, pointing at Pietro.

Pietro took offense to this, and muttered something under his breath in a foreign language before he decided that this pissed him off enough to start punching Clint. Clint attempted to fight back, but instead wound up punching Bruce after Pietro dodged out of the way in a blur.

A loud roar escaped Bruce’s lips as he collapsed to the ground and a sickly green tone began to flush through his skin. A powerful green hand swung out and collided into Steve and Tony, who collapsed on top of each other, leading to a brawl over who started this argument. 

Thor seemed afraid for his companions and promptly tackled the emerging Hulk, trying to pin him. “It’s okay, Banner! The Arrow meant no harm!” he wailed as the Hulk rolled them so he could stand up and now was holding Thor by an arm.

Roaring furiously, the beast slammed the demi-god into the opposing wall with a toss. Thor skidded down the wall with a grunt before he extended a palm to summon Mjolnir from his cubby, smashing a hole through the backstage door, and leapt towards the Hulk. He tackled the monster once again to drop the hammer on his chest, effectively pinning him to the stage. 

“You dare challenge the Thunder god? I’ve killed beasts far worse!” he spat before storming off backstage to sulk.

The brawl between the other four was not quite as quickly resolved, and by the time Bruce returned to normal they were still throwing punches. Ultron tried to intervene, threw a few punches himself, but found he could not effectively end the skirmish, at least until he bellowed “I shall not stand for this! The next man who dares to punch another shall be fined! Or worse, I shall terminate your work!”

Miraculously, all four let their guard down and turned to face him.

“You shall all return in ten minutes, and you shall practice your routines without complaint. And somebody fetch Angel!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy. This thing. This started out as a simple joke, and it evolved to this. So here's the gist of it. I started writing this, and my great friend TonyStark_SteveRogersDiary joined the fun. I wrote all of the characters except for Tony, Steve, and a certain other character coming in soon. (Well, sometimes I wrote them, depending.) All I know is that this evolved into a massive project we under took a long while back, and we've even got a sequel in the works.  
> It's been quite the ride, and too much fun!  
> Anyhow, on to the basics, I'll let you know at the end who wrote what. For example, This chapter was done solo by me. Next chapter will have portions written by TonyStark_SteveRogersDiary, and believe me, it is fantastic.  
> Thanks to anyone who is reading this, and a great big thanks to TonyStark_SteveRogersDiary for convincing me to start writing fanfiction and helping me make this crazy fic.


	2. Acclimating Slowly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the boys try to survive.

The first week had gone surprisingly well, with minimal interaction between the boys. Little excitement seemed to occur backstage, save for a fit of rage from a certain white haired man.

Pietro had come off stage looking agitated and furious. While he was redressing he caught a glimpse of himself in the shoddy mirror, and this seemed to irk him. He muttered something along the lines of “Never going to be able to look myself in the eye again.” before slamming his fist into the mirror, shattering it.  
The loud noise shocked the others, causing them to leap up. 

“What the hell, Whitey?” Clint shrieked, but received no response aside from a disdainful glare.

After tossing the shattered remains, Pietro sat in his cubby, looking sullen and crossed his arms over his chest. They weren’t allowed to leave until all of their shifts were done, in case of injury of the onstage dancer, but he looked ready to dart out of there in a heartbeat. Instead he busied himself by looking over the contents of his pockets.  
Tony awkwardly glanced off into a corner, hoping the next few hours wouldn’t be as long as they were making out to be.

During the second week the six of them seemed to ease up a bit, and would idly chat when not dancing.  
Steve seemed to have an increasingly irritating “quirk” where he was afraid he’d get an STD from almost anything. He refused to let anyone touch him, and wore gloves so that the pole wouldn’t “pass whatever the heck it is you guys got.” Clearly he hadn’t received much formal education regarding STDs, because he had no idea how they were contracted.  
He decided to bring in a health inspector, a fiery red-head by the name of Natasha Romanova. Clint recognized her, so he told Tony. 

“I met her at a bar a while ago! She gave me her number!” he said excitedly, clearly he hoped he could win her over.

“And? She knows you work here. Not exactly the best way to get girls.”

Clint simply waved him off. “Dude, girls love a guy who can dance!” 

Clint approached her, she seemed preoccupied with studying the showers. “Hey Nat, you remember me? I’m Clint, we met a while back at Danny’s bar!” he said as he waved to get her attention.

She seemed uninterested, no emotion betraying what she was thinking. “Oh yes, I think I do. That was what? Seven months ago?” she said slowly.

Clint’s eyes widened a bit. “Um, yeah. Sorry I never called. Got busy, yeah?”

She looked away to continue testing the showers before Bruce came off stage. Her eyes narrowed as she inspected him and began to scribble something down on her note pad.  
“So, uh, Nat, you wanna hang out some time? I can pay!” Clint tried, hoping to hold her attention.

“Does your employer simply allow you to walk around like that? Completely un-waxed?” Natasha asked as she gestured to Bruce’s rather fuzzy body.

“Huh? Oh, yeah! Why wouldn’t he? Wanna see my body hair?” he replied, trying his best to flirt with what she was providing him.

She made a noise of disgust and jotted something down. “Where’s the entrance to the audience? I need to inspect the rest of the building.” she asked.

Clint chuckled a bit and smiled. “Well, my shift is in an hour. Why not wait until then? I’ll put on a good show for you.” he said with a wink.

Natasha rolled her eyes. “Listen, I get it. You forgot to call, and you want to hook up now, but I’m trying to do my job! Now, where is the entrance?” she said menacingly, brandishing her pen as though it were a weapon, and pointed it at his chin.

Gulping audibly, he lifted a hand to point to his left, showing her the stage door by mistake. Tony let out a rather high pitched scream of shock when she stumbled on stage.  
“Dammit!” she spat as she flung herself backstage again. “You! You loathsome ass!”

Clint rubbed the back of his neck, looking flustered. “I didn’t mean to!” he babbled.

Natasha simply turned on her heels and stormed out. 

The health complaints were deposited to Ultron, the first and foremost being the body hair of the dancers.

“You must all begin waxing your bodies. I shall not have my glorious building closed because of your filthiness!” Ultron demanded the next day.

Clint seemed scandalized. “Absolutely not! I refuse!” he spat, drawing odd looks from the others.

“Uhh… No offense, but you’re not exactly furry.” Bruce said, gesturing to himself as he said the word “furry”.

Clint shot him a look. “I’m not waxing! Come on, guys, we don’t have to take this!”

“Actually we kind of do. It’s not sanitary otherwise. Can’t have hairs in drinks.” Bruce sighed.

Clearly Clint was having none of this and stormed out of the room to go on strike for a grand total of three days before he came back waxed.  
Apparently they had varying degrees of success and pain when it came to waxing. Tony seemed to pay it no mind, while Pietro called it “the most agonizing thing I’ve ever done.” Bruce couldn’t be bothered to move afterwards, every inch of his body was sore, and he had to have Tony take his shift.

“You guys are acting like babies. It doesn’t hurt that bad! You’ll get used to it.” Tony said as he redressed, laughing at the misery of the others.

“Speak for yourself. When my mind starts racing the world starts to slow down. I could feel every single hair getting pulled out one by one!” Pietro shot back.

Steve looked up at this. “Are you one of those mutants I’ve read about in the papers? You seem like one.”

Tony rolled his eyes. “Well, you’re slow on the uptake.”

Pietro just looked pissed. “Oh no, I just have super speed and white hair for a laugh. Yes I’m a mutant, you moron!” he spat sarcastically.

Bruce threw his hands in the air. “Can we just not do this? We’re already sore, no need to start punching each other.” Thor was on stage, and the last thing Bruce needed was an anger fit with no one there to stop him. He couldn’t believe he was doing this; all he wanted was to finish his medical degree and move on, but instead got himself stuck in this place.  
Apparently no one wanted to hire him, in spite of his many talents, mostly due to his rather disgruntled other half. At first it would only trigger at night, so he disclosed this to his employers to avoid night shifts. Then it was triggered by anger. He eventually learned to control it somewhat. It was still a rampant, out of control beast if it was brought about by rage, but if he consciously triggered it himself he could control it far better.  
The Hulk, it had been called, was a wild and untamed beast, now stuck in some seedy night club wearing a purple g-string. Bruce had never known shame quite like this, but at least no one would draw the connection between him and the beast, unless for some bizarre reason the military decided to come snooping around here. He really hoped to never see any of his old companions again, especially General Ross, who had been the one to demand that his doctorate in radiology be stripped from him for “malpractice” after the incident that made him the Hulk. He honestly couldn't see how pulling a teen-aged boy from the test site was "malpractice".  
Bruce shook his head, trying to clear these thoughts, and began to absent mindedly rub at his sore skin. He’d have to agree with Pietro: waxing was one of the most agonizing things he’s ever done, and he was half ready to Hulk out by the end of it. He didn’t even know why he bothered to show up to work, he surely couldn’t have thought the sting would fade that fast. He must be going mental.

Bruce wasn’t the only one thinking he was going crazy. Tony Stark stared at himself on the mirror, seeing an unrecognizable face with his lips glossed with slick crimson lipstick, his eyelids highlighted with an aquamarine eye shadow, and his high cheek bones powdered with blush. He sighed heavily as he adjusted the black bra straps on his milky shoulders, hearing them slap against his skin; he wondered how he sunk this low to basically look like a woman or possibly a hooker.  
Tony felt his mind burn of the thought of his heartless twin brother Gregory, the cruel man responsible for exiling him into this stripper joint and stealing his fortune, leaving him with nothing but broken pride. In his distant past, he had a few dancers perform for him, he managed to learn their moves and thus be able to create his own identity and create his own special routines. One of his stage names was Iron Maiden, in his opinion it was more dignified than his other role, because he played a romanticized role of a damsel in distress. He usually wore a long silk gown from the medieval era, uttering soft moans as he would dramatically place his hand on his forehead as if he was going to swoon, then proceeding to peel his fancy frock off to remain in a tight corset and a chastity belt. Letting his hips sway hotly and having to sell himself for money to his male audience.  
“Ah, my chastity belt is so tight, only twenty dollars can open it and see my virgin islands.” Tony made a sultry moan and hooked his thumb on the band of the trimmed underwear and teasingly slipped it lower to expose his entire left V-line. Meanwhile, his fellow co-workers noticed his Iron Maiden show and were shocked by the display, they were crowded near the closed curtains.

“You do realize how much of a harlot that makes you sound like, right? And for only twenty dollars. What a bargain.” Pietro commented with sarcasm as his mouth twisted into repulsion, Tony made a twirl on his high heel to shift closer to the worn-out drapes.

“Ooo someone is interested in bargains, well come and get it!” Tony retorted and purposely slipped his naked leg through the fold of the dense cloths and snaked his leg against Pietro who quickly evaded the gesture with disgust. 

The Iron Maiden was the least of Tony’s problems; it was his second stripper identity that provided the most trouble. Tony typically performed as Candy, who has become one of the popular characters in the establishment, when he becomes Candy, he loses himself and transforms into this attention hungry dancer who constantly wants cash and expensive trinkets. Candy would dance in front of sugar daddies since he was aware where the real money flows from, and was known for wearing undergarments made out of sweets, having flashy stiletto heels, and the use of make-up. One of his signature moves would have to be either showering himself with honey or chocolate syrup, rubbing it all over himself and tempting his customers to have a taste of him. Candy loved to be complimented from his lust-filled clients and have their eyes blown with desire from his wicked sexual dances. Tony would earn so much money from his performances, but it becomes a concern that he cannot seem to save his profits because his Candy personality possesses him and squander the cash with pricey earrings, make-up kits, lacy bras and panties, and cute shoes. He called this annoying habit Candy Syndrome, there were many instances of forgetting that he is Tony Stark, he reacts as the sassy Candy who loves nothing except money, men, and material goods. 

By week three Ultron’s next “brilliant” idea came into play. His next plan was to have two dancers on stage at once to utilize both poles, in spite of the many protests. At the front of these unhappy strippers was Steve, who was distraught by this.  
“I don’t want to dance with anyone else! They’ll give me some weird disease!” he protested.

Ultron snickered. “This isn’t my concern. My concern lies in running this place.”

Steve looked scandalized. “You should care! If I get ill, then I can’t dance!”

Apparently this held no weight with Ultron, who scheduled for group practices, and assigned particularly bad maneuvers for them to practice. The one the boys dreaded the most was what they had come to call “the Double Decker Twerk.”

“You shall all perform your own individual dances while on stage together; however, group acts are expected. Should you fail to comply, I shall fine or fire you. Depending on my mood.” Ultron reminded them, giving a particularly pointed glance at Steve, who looked ready to cry. “I expect you all to have at least one act with the other men meaning five group acts total. They shall be based on rotation, depending on the schedule.” Ultron chose each duo that could provide catastrophe for the group, the aggressive Pietro with an irritating Clint, a disgruntled Hulk with a bewildered Thor, a germaphobic Steve and his sticky partner Tony. The new routine was becoming such a disaster that Pietro was not even attempting to go on all fours, Clint was aware of the stubbornness of the snow-haired mutant that he, without warning, jumped to wrap his arms around Pietro’s neck and legs coiled shrewdly around his waist.

“GET OFF, YOU BLOODY LUNATIC!” Pietro bellowed out as he jabbed his elbow swiftly on Clint’s rib cage area, the blow was so harsh that Clint crashed backwards grabbing his sore flank with a noisy groan. 

“Ow! What the hell, Whitey?” Clint yelled out as he jumped back on his feet with an angry expression.

“You attacked me! You don’t just jump a guy and expect to get out unscathed!”

“Dude, you aren’t even bending over! You’re supposed to get on all fours!”

However, the second team Thor and Hulk fared better than Pietro and Clint, the large green beast was able to crouch down for Thor to climb on top of him. Thor then started to twerk on top of an immobile Hulk who just glared belligerently and did not even try to do the same thing as his partner; it was only a single twerk. 

Steve Rogers was deathly afraid, he reluctantly sank down to go on all fours as he trembled when he saw Tony approach him from behind in his usual female garments, Tony rubbed his hands together and scampered on top of Steve’s slick backside. Steve felt himself twitching, he could feel Tony crawl on his back, first he felt Tony’s balls dip on him and then he felt Tony’s warm soft breasts squish against the upper part. Tony was about to let his butt wiggle into a twerk, but Steve yelped out panic and acted like a stallion, he thrust forward making Tony fly forward and land against the ground. Steve immediately stood up and walked a few paces back from Tony and began rubbing his nervous hands all over himself.

“You’re not even doing it right, Tony! You were just lying on top of me!”

“It’s your fault! You were shaking like a leaf, of course I couldn’t do it right!” Tony shouted back as he went on his feet and snapped his fingers at him.

“I’m not doing this anymore!”

“No! We’re gonna do this, get your ass back down!”

“Yeah! I just tried to tell this ass-hat to do the same! He’s being stubborn as a mule! I’ll break you, I promise!” Clint spat, clearly displeased with his partner. Pietro simply gave him a furious glance and turned his back to the raging ex-archer. 

“He’s not a horse, Clint.” Steve said as he still held his hands up to let Tony know to get away from him.

“Actually, I think I should do what Clint was doing. Seems he had the right idea. Come on Star Spangled Stud, let me on you!” Tony circled around Steve like a ravenous vulture and then he kicked Steve on his lower back, Steve felt Tony’s high heel stab his skin and he collapsed on the floor in surprise. Steve scampered up to go on fours and he felt Tony try to straddle him.

“Get off, get off, get off!!!” Steve hollered out as he squirmed underneath as he can only reach far enough to slap repeatedly Tony on the butt.

“Stop resisting! Let me get on you! Trust me, you’ll like it, honey.”

At this point Ultron realized things were going horribly wrong, and that clearly he needed to let them cool off a bit, lest they start tearing each other apart. “STOP! You’re acting like children! Honestly, I should just release the lot of you! Take a five minute break, and if you still attempt to resist the practice session then I shall have no choice but to terminate your work!” he bellowed, a loud, almost thunderous roar echoing off the cheap construction of the building. All of them removed themselves from their partners with pained expressions, it was an uncomfortable event and it was something they did not want to repeat. They each went to their personal cubbies, but not before Pietro took it upon himself to smash Clint’s mirror with a furious punch. He then sat himself in his cubby without so much as a word.

“Seriously, what is your issue, man?! Uncalled for! Now I can’t look at myself anymore!” Clint shot, clearly angered by the destruction. He looked remiss as he gathered up the remaining pieces of the mirror and simply tossed them out into the back alley.

“Ooo, ten points for Pietro for smashing the vanity mirror.” Tony crowed as he started fluffing his dark locks of hair with his fingers.

“What of it? You want me to smash yours too?” Pietro spat vehemently. He was having none this nonsense anymore; he hated this place so much, and felt like he was trapped.

“Oh god no, I wouldn’t go that far. I need mine more than Clint. I need my make-up to look right.” Tony said with a fearful squeal as he was a bit unnerved by Pietro’s temper, he was trying to cheer him up.

“Well you look awful either way.” Pietro muttered as he stood up and walked out of the back door. A muffled scream of rage could be heard after he slammed it shut, as well as copious amounts of angry sounding Romani.

“OOH! Bruce, translate! You speak whatever moon-speak that is, right?” Clint laughed, clearly no longer upset by the broken mirror.

Bruce sighed, uninterested. “Really? Why does it matter? If you absolutely must know he’s saying he hates everyone here. Especially you.” Bruce replied as his picked his nails free of dirt, the Hulk seemed to have picked up some of the stage varnish under his nails during the twerkathon.

“I don’t care that he hates everyone! He called me ugly! That brute! How can he treat a defenseless lady such as me like that?” Tony said with his Candy personality affecting him, he seemed distraught that Pietro insulted his physical features; he tried hard to restrain his angry tears from smearing his mascara.

“Dude, do you actually think you’re a woman? You’re one butt-ugly woman if that’s the case. Sorry, no offense.” Clint laughed in response, intending it to be a joke. Surely Tony wasn’t that enveloped by Candy’s personality?

“You bastard! You shouldn’t be saying that when I make more money than you! Also, aren’t you forgetting a little special moment we shared behind the curtains?” Tony said with mystery as he pursed his red lips with a smirk.

“Huh? Oh you mean when I got completely wasted off my ass and tripped on top of you? Yeah, no don’t read too deep into that, sweetheart.” Clint said slowly, looking a bit amused. 

“Right, sure. It’s so easy to let go of the idea of you fondling me all over the place. Either way, you still enjoyed it, drunk or not.”

“Why do you two have to be like this? If there is a problem with your relationship, take it somewhere else.” Steve scolded with discomfort, the homo-eroticism made him a bit uncomfortable. He cannot help being old-fashioned.

“You old prude, there is nothing wrong exploring your sexuality. If you’re ever curious, you can ask Clint, that’s if you’re interested in some man-meat.” Tony said with a purr as he flicked his tongue to lick his own upper lip.

Bruce looked ready to explode. “Really? REALLY? Why is this even up for discussion? What the heck triggered this conversation? One minute we’ve got a raging psychopath outside screaming his head off, next we’ve got two people in here arguing semantics about sex! Do we need a group therapy session or something? WHAT IS WRONG WITH US?!”

“Look, I was trying to make as you say that ‘raging psychopath’ feel better. That was so out of line of him for calling me ugly, god that is so far from the truth!”

“Tony, that makes you so vain.” Steve commented as he crossed his arms against his chest.

“You, don’t talk! Unless you want some of Candy on you.” Tony threatened as he figured he’ll just have a bit of revenge, he slid his buttocks against Steve’s thigh. Steve immediately hollered at the top of his lungs as he picked up a nearby table and threw it at Tony, who screamed in a girly pitch and instantly dodged it; he hid behind Bruce like a whimpering infant.

Bruce rolled his eyes. “Actually, I think I’ll reclaim that 'raging psychopath' comment and actually go join him. He seems to have the right idea after all.” He stood up and walked outside, slamming the door behind him.

“Ugh, men! I’m so out of here!” Tony said with defeat as he decided to walk to another area to be alone and recover from the hurtful comments, letting his heels clunk against the ground.

“I need to sterilize my thigh. Oh god, I don’t know where that butt has been.” Steve said as he was too occupied of trying to rid of the invisible mark from Tony.

Clint flicked his nails. “Ugh, what’s wrong with everyone here? You’re all a bunch of ninnies! I grew up in the circus; this kind of bull wouldn’t have been tolerated there. We’re kinda like a circus, if you think about it, just with a lot less clothes and probably a lot more mental health issues.”

Thor had been sitting in the corner the entire time, completely baffled by what had just occurred. He simply couldn’t understand how humans could be so petty and argumentative at every turn. He decided to remain silent, clearly none of them were any mood to speak about anything, and he had no desire to have to start knocking heads. After all, harming the innocents rendered Mjolnir useless. Though at this point, “innocent” was a very debatable term.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Steve and Tony's portions/dialogue written by TonyStark_SteveRogersDiary.  
> Others' portions/dialogue written by BrightenYou.  
> Thanks for reading!


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